Alex, in the pool, with a knife
by Bookjunk
Summary: Post-season 3. Alex is dealing with losing Sean. Ryan is dealing with losing Division. It brings them together in unexpected ways.
1. Alex

**Alex. In the pool. With a knife.**

**Chapter 1: Alex**

'Drinking alone? Never a good sign,' Alex teased. Ryan turned around and patted the empty barstool to his left. She shook her head and remained standing.

'Are you celebrating or commiserating?' she asked. There was a short pause before he answered. Half actual thinking, half delayed reaction time, Alex estimated. It was weird to see Ryan like this. She'd only ever seen him either in control or trying so hard to be in control. Serious.

'Both. Don't get me wrong: I'm glad that Division's gone. I got a little power hungry there,' Ryan admitted. Not slurring, but his speech was slower and carefully over enunciated. The true tell of inebriation.

'For the right reason, though,' Alex defended him. He was very hard on himself. Always beating himself up over things. Well, they all did that. He smiled gratefully at her before looking at his drink.

'Yeah, maybe, but still,' he said.

'So, you're mourning the potential of Division?'

'Something like that.'

There was sadness in his voice that she felt he had little right to. Also, she wasn't in the mood for anyone's pity party.

'I'll leave you to it then.'

'Ah, come on. Join me,' he said, ordering another drink for himself and then looking at her. Waiting. Alex sighed and slid onto the barstool next to him.

(***)

Half an hour later.

'It's like... you did the right thing for the wrong reason,' Ryan explained. Betraying Nikita, Michael and Birkhoff wasn't exactly her favourite topic of conversation. She still hadn't figured out whether Amanda fucking with her brain was an excuse or an explanation. Yet, despite the subject matter, Alex grinned.

'I think you mean that I did the wrong thing for the right reason,' she corrected him. He stared at her with furrowed brow.

'What did I say?'

(***)

Another half hour later.

'Here's to taking it easy,' Ryan toasted, his shoulder bumping into hers as he tried to knock back the last of his drink.

'I think it's time you went home,' Alex suggested. To her relief, he didn't argue. He didn't seem to be a contrary drunk. Just a more relaxed version of the usual Ryan. He leaned against the bar. It was pretty clear that he wasn't going to make it outside without some support. She offered him her arm and he took it. They made it to the street without problems. Alex hailed a cab. She thought about asking him whether he remembered his address, but decided against it. He was her friend; the least she could do was make sure he got home safely.

(***)

A quarter of an hour later.

She told the cab driver to wait. Ryan's apartment building was nice. Entering his apartment felt like she was crossing some kind of boundary, though. Not that there was intensely personal stuff lying around or something, but it was a glimpse into his private life nonetheless. She wondered whether he had people over. Whether he lied to them about who he was and what he did. All things she hadn't thought about before.

The bedroom was tidy. She sat him down on the bed and began to take off his shoes. She assumed that this was what you were supposed to do in this situation. This was what people did, right?

'You lost Sean,' he said. Startled, Alex looked up.

'It doesn't seem right that he was the one to die. He was such a good guy,' she responded. The real kicker was that it was still happening. She hadn't lost Sean; she was still in the process of losing him.

The more difficult to define things were the ones to go first, like Sean's special brand of cockiness and vulnerability. The way he'd looked at her – corny as hell – as if she was the only girl in the world. How, even when he was mad at her, she could tell that he loved her. Hard to hold onto, apparently, because they slipped between her fingers like grains of sand and when she tried to pick them up again she couldn't be sure whether they were the same. Was this how Sean had looked at her? Was this how it had felt to be loved by Sean?

But today had been okay. She hadn't lost anything today. Standing up, she looked out of the window. The cab wasn't at the curb anymore. Oh, shit.

(***)

The next morning.

The sound of the shower woke her up. Quickly, Alex dressed and ventured into the kitchen to wait there for Ryan. When he entered – a few minutes later – he looked fine. A little tired, but mostly restored to normal. He gave no sign of having been phenomenally drunk the night before.

'I slept in the spare room. I hope you don't mind,' she explained.

'You didn't have to stay.'

'The cab left.'

'Well, in that case you _did_ have to stay, Alexandra Udinov. I'll make you breakfast,' he offered and smiled and Alex kissed him. Just like that. Caught by surprise, Ryan responded for a second, but then he pulled away. His hands were on her shoulders and he was sort of holding her at arm's length.

'We shouldn't do this. It's… not right, you know,' he gently pointed out. Alex nodded in agreement. Not so soon after Sean.


	2. In the pool

**Alex. In the pool. With a knife.**

**Chapter 2: In the pool**

Eight months later.

From his place by the fire, Ryan dutifully admired Nikita's dress. She barely seemed to hear him, because she was fluttering her eyelashes at Michael. This was just as well. Her crimson gown deserved better than his lackluster compliments. Owen actually whistled when he caught a glimpse of the extremely low back of the robe. Not to be outdone, Sonya also twirled and posed for them. Her emerald green silk dress was maybe even more elegant than Nikita's outfit, but Ryan caught himself staring out of the window instead. He wasn't feeling very festive. Christmas didn't do anything for him.

Then Alex appeared at his shoulder, wearing a knee length grey cashmere sweater over a pair of jeans. She looked stunning.

'I like your shoes,' Ryan said. She clicked the heels of her bright blue suede pumps together and grinned.

'Thanks. Hey guys, dinner's ready.'

During dinner, Ryan talked almost exclusively about the house. He couldn't help himself. The architecture of the place was amazing. From what Ryan could see, the original building has been restored almost completely. He knew he was boring the others – especially Owen – with his nerdy Architectural Digest appreciation, but he couldn't stop. What would it be like to live in a place like this?

He almost asked Alex, before remembering that growing up here hadn't been a happy experience for her. Sitting at the head of the table, she played the perfect host. Occasionally, Ryan caught her eye and thought about the kiss they'd shared.

After dinner, she approached him. He was staring out of the window again. It was snowing. Together they watched for a while as the grounds were slowly being covered by a white blanket. She gently nudged him in the ribs.

'Do you want to go for a walk?' she asked, keeping her voice low so that their friends wouldn't overhear them. She needn't have worried. Michael and Nikita were lost in each other's eyes, Birkhoff and Sonya were cuddling on the couch and Owen was busy devouring everything vaguely edible that was hanging in the Christmas tree. No one was paying attention to them.

'That would be nice,' Ryan answered. They donned snow boots and thick winter coats before braving the cold. The house looked even more imposing in the light of dusk. Silently, they strolled around the house. He thought about his memoirs. The writing wasn't going well at all. When he glanced at Alex, she flashed him a smile and grabbed his hand.

'I want to show you something.'

Hand in hand, Ryan and Alex dashed around the corner of the house to arrive at the front again. Suddenly, the house was awash in light. Christmas lights were draped across every possible surface and nook. They flashed on and off and changed colours. The falling snow was sparkling with the brilliance of them.

'Beautiful, huh?' Alex beamed. Ryan wasn't looking at the house, though. Snowflakes had stuck to Alex's lashes. Her blue eyes reflected a thousand tiny lights.

'Yeah,' Ryan agreed.

(***)

Despite the fact that Michael and Nikita in the adjacent room were very loudly not sleeping, Ryan managed to sleep through the night. He woke up early and tried to write something. A paragraph. A sentence. Anything. No luck. Eventually, he gave up and got dressed.

He wandered downstairs, in search of a cup of coffee. When he passed the patio doors, he noticed something moving in the outdoor pool. A pale shape slicing through the turquoise rectangle. He paused to look. It was Alex. Ryan shook his head.

'Crazy,' he muttered. In the kitchen, a fresh pot of coffee was on the counter. He took it and two mugs and went outside. There was a bench with a big towel slung over the back. The wood was still a little wet from the snow that had melted overnight. Ryan wiped it dry as best as he could and sat down. Alex was just finishing up a lap when she saw him. She waved and swam over.

'Thought you might like some coffee,' he offered, pouring the hot liquid in a mug. Alex held out her hand without coming out of the water. Ryan didn't move. There was no way that he was going anywhere near the pool.

'I'm staying right here.'

'Oh, come on. I'm not going to do anything,' Alex protested. Ryan remained seated.

'I know you're not, because I'm not coming close enough for you to do anything. Try and fool unsuspecting strangers.'

Alex huffed and pulled herself out of the pool. Her hair was sleek, swept over one shoulder. Her cheeks were rosy, either from exercising or simply from the cold. She wrapped the towel around her. Ryan handed her a steaming mug.

'How are your memoirs coming along?' she inquired. He sighed.

'What does it say when the author almost falls asleep while writing?'

'Depends what you were working on at the time,' Alex said, sipping her coffee.

'I was writing about the thing with the President.'

'The _thing_ with the President? No wonder you're struggling,' she joked. Ryan laughed as he realised that Alex was right. His life might have been pretty interesting in places, but that did not mean that he was a good writer. He was thinking about that when he got up to pour Alex another cup of coffee. He felt her hands on his back. The next thing he knew, he was in the pool. Alex dropped her towel and dove in after him.

'It's freezing!' he gasped. The icy water tugged at his clothes, attempting to suck him down.

'Come here, I'll warm you up,' Alex suggested. He waded closer. She leaned in and kissed him. It did nothing to dispel the cold, but it was nice nonetheless. Ryan smiled.

'We were here before,' he reminded her.

'I know. It doesn't feel wrong anymore,' she said, before kissing him a second time. He didn't know how long she had been in the water, but her lips were surprisingly warm. She unbuttoned his shirt and slid it off his shoulders. It floated away. He shivered when she caressed the scar on his abdomen.

'I shot you,' she whispered.

'I remember,' he deadpanned. Alex tried to take her hands away, but Ryan stopped her. He kissed her to tell her that it didn't matter. That he didn't care. That it was all forgiven. As he held Alex in his arms, kissing her, he started to feel warm. Which turned into hot. Which grew into scorching. Until they were interrupted by Owen's voice drifting across the water.

'It's below zero. What are you doing swimming? Oh, you're not. Are you naked? Don't answer that. Is everyone _but me_ paired up now? Awesome.'

(***)

Author's note: Yeah, the 'thing with the President' is long over and Sam is Owen again and they all live happily ever after. Shut up. I create my own reality.


	3. With a knife

**Alex. In the pool. With a knife.**

**Chapter 3: With a knife**

Six months later.

It got dark so soon these days. Alex switched on the lights. It made everything seem that much emptier. She still hadn't gotten used to the new house. It felt just like that: new-ish. Strange. Sometimes she accidentally wandered into a room that she'd forgotten was there.

Ryan had liked the Udinov mansion immensely. More than Alex had. It was so full of ghosts, despite being just a replica. Filled to the rafters with good memories turned sour. Her father whom she'd thought she was close to, only to later discover a detachment between them, in every interaction. Her mother; a shell of a woman. Her survival lessons. The fire. The whole house was a mirage. Shimmering, there and not there. No matter how many doors she opened, walls she touched, floors she walked on. It was all so obviously not her. She didn't belong there.

The new kitchen was maybe the most familiar place in the whole house. It's where they ate, even though they had a perfectly good dining room. It's where they did the washing up, side by side. Again, they had an expensive dishwasher for that purpose but it remained largely unused. It's where they had sex the most. Frantically, that first time when they'd gotten the key from the real estate agent.

(***)

'We're supposed to look around to see if we could see ourselves living here,' Ryan had protested as she slipped off his tie.

'That's what I'm doing,' she said. 'I mean, look at this counter here. Can you see us having sex on it? Can you see me licking your neck, like so? How about the fridge? Do the appliances come with the house?'

'I think so,' Ryan answered, hesitantly. Alex walked around him, touching him here and there and everywhere. Seduction isn't problem for her, though it is always different with Ryan. She never knows what he's going to do. Sometimes he gives in, immediately. Sometimes he resists, which is even better.

'Well, what about having me up against this fridge? Imagine that you're coming home. I'm preparing dinner. You've missed me, because, how could you not? You see me sitting here. And you're overcome by lust. You must have me right then and there. I'm wearing a dress. No panties: I was expecting you. You walk up to me, push me against the fridge. There's a little fumbling. Your belt, your zipper. You hitch up my skirt… Can you envision that, Ryan?'

He nodded, breathlessly. Alex extricated herself from his lanky frame, hands brushing his shoulders, her nose gently skimming across his cheek.

'Me too. So, I guess we're taking it,' she concluded, smirking. Ryan pulled her towards him, his hand around her wrist. He shrugged, feigning seriousness.

'I don't know. Imagining's one thing…'

They walked in tiny steps; he forwards, she backwards until her back was up against the fridge. He kissed her in that special soft way of his. It was like saying 'I love you' without actually saying the words. Not that he didn't do that also, often and loudly.

'I think we need to really test this before we commit,' he whispered in her ear.

'You think so?' Alex teased.

'Hell, yeah.'

(***)

Alex went over Nikita's phone call while chopping carrots. It was still weird that they didn't see each other almost every day. To have to rely on phone calls and emails and video chats. It was a lot like being a mole inside Division. Except this time it was the way it would probably be from here on out. Friendships change. Nikita was there and Alex was here. She felt a little pang sometimes, which was comforting. Yes, they had lost something. As close as they had been once upon a time they would never be again.

Life marched on. Sean a distant memory. Phrases he'd said popped into her head from time to time. She shared them with Ryan and he would look at her a certain way. As if he wanted to tell her that it got easier, but didn't want to lie. Grief got eroded by life or it eroded you. One or the other. Maybe Ryan understood that even if she had wanted to she was too strong to let it destroy her. That life would always go on for her.

Being a diplomat suited Alex. Literally. It was like a suit she wore. Part Alexandra Udinov, part herself. A blend which came almost naturally to her. She cared about the causes. She had money. She had a certain amount of power. Freedom to go where others couldn't. She fought for what she believed in. And at the end of the day, she stepped out of the suit and it faded away. Injustice didn't keep her awake at night. It didn't make her hit the punching bags harder at the gym. Maybe it should have. Maybe she'd lost something there too.

Being with Ryan had smoothed her out. When he kissed her, Alex felt like she was sliding into place. The front door opened and closed. Loosening his tie, Ryan entered the kitchen.

'Nikita called. She says hi,' Alex told him, while he kissed her neck. The knife kept up it steady rhythm.

'You look lovely,' he murmured. He swept aside her hair and trailed kisses along her collarbone.

'And you are one handsome _handsome_ man,' Alex replied, putting another carrot on the chopping board. Ryan's kisses went up to her ear and then down again following her jaw line until he reached her mouth. Suddenly, Alex pulled away from him with a grimace and sucked the finger she'd cut. She took it out briefly to admonish Ryan.

'You shouldn't distract me,' she scolded before popping the finger back in. Coaxing it out of her mouth again, Ryan examined the cut and instantly went to work. He held her finger under the sink, cleaned the cut with some stingy antibiotic and bandaged it. Alex watched him work. Him taking care of her could have felt overbearing, but it didn't. She thought that it was sweet. Once he was done, he looked up.

'I hope our kids have your eyes,' she said. Ryan frowned at her. Amused, he shook his head.

'You kill me, you know that?'

Alex flushed. She was moving too fast. Or maybe he didn't want to have children. Did she want to have children? Yes, she did.

'Sorry, just dreaming out loud,' she murmured.

'_Of course_ the kids are going to have my eyes. We've got the same eye colour. Who do you plan on sleeping with to avoid blue?' Ryan joked. Alex smiled and leaned into him.

'We never did test that counter, did we?'

The end.


End file.
